regressive tendencies

Each day I resist

the urge to miss the apple

and slice off a finger

I’m not kidding

the resolve of a draft dodger

speaking only with fridge magnets

hair trigger, shrimp jesus

leaving digital footprints on 

a digital beach

still,

you’re every single answer

to my password recovery questions

and I keep forgetting 

(keep remembering)

our love as mass

hallucination

plastic keys beneath 

my fingers

the faded letters of your name,

initials

in a diseased heart,

the rotten tree stump

that used to dream of

reincarnation

a hotel Bible, pack of A4

nothing fancy—

or maybe it was a memory 

this clinging feeling

that life used to be better

but we’re not sure when.

I have this fantasy:

I’m dialing a plastic rotary phone

with my tongue.

It rings and rings.

Nobody answers.